Make yourself a home

It occurred to me that each year I’ve written some sort of year end review about my marriage for my anniversary. Today is my third anniversary. Without looking back at my other essays on it, I know I’m not as happy and not as profuse as I was one year in. I don’t want to shy away from the realities of marriage and the Army, but I do understand how sensitive of a matter being honest actually is.

I am not as happy as I was two years ago because stress exists, namely the fact my husband has been on a different continent for the last 5 months and I have been pregnant for 7. I’m also not as happy because being married is not the least frustrating experience I have on a regular basis. Being home alone during this time has afforded me the opportunity to reflect on this.

One of the differences in this year and last year is that I was convinced my husband had committed an array of new offenses against me mainly resembling neglect. I had started working and expected more from him as I had less time for myself. This year I understand he doesn’t choose to neglect me; that’s how I have chosen to define his actions. The unchanging fact is that my husband loves and literally hasn’t bothered to imagine any level of a future without me. And he hasn’t actually done anything offensive to me. Still I’ve been quick to assign his actions or lack thereof to disregard, finding reasons he doesn’t actually love me like he should. Why would I want to prove that? What I understand now is that what is most important is that we share the same definitions of love, disrespect, effort and we currently do not. I accept I can’t label his actions for him, just as he can’t qualify or disqualify any feelings I have about his or my actions.

I went through a period of thinking he was refusing to do what or be who I want, which made me angry and feel helpless, then I started to believe he could not do those things, which made me feel helpless and desperate. At this point I understand this predicament is that other meaning of “marriage takes work” because my husband can be what I need and I can be what he needs, we just have to learn how to do that.

The first bit of marriage was easy because of the novelty of being married. I finally got to live with my boyfriend! And I wasn’t responsible for taking out the trash. Bliss. When you marry someone you think you know them in this intimate way, which is probably as intimate as you can know someone before marriage, but there are still levels to your spouse and yourself you have yet to discover, both higher and lower.

I knew my husband’s polite passion for me and general desire, but I did not know he would ever put me second. I knew the Army would be the priority but I did not know it would take every ounce of energy he has. I didn’t know my husband would not need me on a practical level, but I love that he needs me on a spiritual level.

So at moments I have felt bereft about what I haven’t had, but more recently I have felt clear about what I actually need. It is important for me to acknowledge the ways my happiness and contentment have nothing to do with my husband (not to mention the fact he hasn’t done anything wrong), but I have still placed it on him. My self-actualization and current job, isolation, his spirit, and my relationship with God have more to do with how happy I am than whether or not my husband surprised me with a date, but I at times have chosen to only focus on the date because that is the only factor I seem to be able to affect or that I can remove from my own responsibility. (More on my roadblocks with God in a much later post).

The reality is, he is not super happy. I have learned that being in the Army can be difficult, but apparently being Infantry is the bottom on the barrel. Given my high opinion of my husband, the way Infantry units run is detrimental to him. He is intelligent, assertive, responsible, respectful, and athletic, but he seems to be redirected into nonsense at almost every turn. My husband, having not experienced adversity as I have and not being a woman in general, is not most adaptive to these conditions, and that’s why I am second, in my opinion.

I have thought “how happy would I be if we just lived in St. Louis with near our friends and family with nice jobs?” I would like to think I would be happy, but let’s face it, its human nature to find any situation wanting.

I would be “happier” if my husband were more needy. It would give me purpose. As my husband says “idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” and makes for this nonsense I’m entertaining now- finding ways to be unhappy. But if he were needy, I would have long ago collapsed under the pressure of his needs, work, and my high standards. Most importantly, I would be happy with this person if stress didn’t exist, but it will and all the more, so we must adapt.

Thinking about the constant resistance to ease and grace in my life, I have thought about what it would be like not to be married. No, I haven’t considered getting divorced, I’ve just thought about what if it never becomes easy again. The prospect of being apart from my husband is the most miserable feeling I can conjure and even makes me cry right now. I chose him for a reason and I have to remember that because it will always remain true. Even at his worst or my worst, being divided from him is still the worst. Because of this fact and my realizations about self and the spouse as an individual, I choose to initiate the actual thoughtful work of sustaining a growing marriage. I need to pray for my husband for the specific things I think he needs. I need to pray for myself. I need to seek peace in my life and promote peace in his. I need to always look inward instead of outward because my emotions and beliefs are always my choice. If Paul can sing shackled in a jail cell, I can smile with my fake nails, loyal spouse, apparent health, and iPhone.

But, this still has to be a joint effort. I’m writing this on my own. These are my choices and all I can control. Given who my husband is, I am not sure he is required to make this same conscious distinction or decision. I’m the over-analytical one. The frustration comes with not having the tools to navigate the both of us to the same place, and maybe someone who does can help. Until then, I am here.

Marriage is like math classes. Not to say Asians are better at it, but some of us may have found algebra easy, but geometry difficult, calculus impossible. Most of us will have to practice and study. Some of us eventually make our way through, (some of us cheat our way through), some of us need tutors, some of us do better the second try, and some of us really should stick to art.

This is officially too much. My fantasy is to evade work for a week. Actually, on my 40-minute lunch, and 20-minute break I lean all the way in and literally pretend like I don’t work. Something about not working because I can’t stop coughing or crying feels off base of that dream.

I had a rough weekend with physical exhaustion, stress, and nosebleeds and was finally motivated to figure out how to use my FMLA benefits at work. As soon as I initiated the process, I called out work for the second half of Monday. On Tuesday, I managed to stay clocked in for 30 minutes. Then Wednesday and Thursday I didn’t even bother trying to work. Wednesday I lie in bed with no medicine and no obvious way to obtain it. A coworker, IraShalee, offered to bring me something but she was working until 6. And then could I really ask her to go to a store, hike up to Post, do a background check real quick (or slow) so she can get through the gate to bring me some DayQuil? No, I would have to get up myself.

As a person who is self-admittedly vain, as well as formal, the prospect of getting myself together to be in public seemed like too much and caused me to delay going out. I eventually threw on some eyebrows and accepted I’ll just have to look like shit in order to stop feeling like shit.

Car on E, I drove myself to the PX. I realized after my perilous hour and a half drive home in the dark and pouring rain Monday my car was more sketchy than usual. I decided not to fill the tank, because this could be it for us, and rounded off to $20 worth of gas.

At the PX, I purchased my medicine and other random pity items including a $6 cone of cheddar popcorn that I always want but seems like a bad deal. It was a bad deal.

Meanwhile, my brain is wracked by the fact my Masters Program just started Monday and I can barely read text messages, let alone 9 chapters of text between my two classes. Not to mention the fact I have no books, because the school I applied to months ago managed to only accept me with four days notice. Sunday I sat down to try to follow the insufficient registration instructions, which ultimately culminated in me crying, followed shortly by a nosebleed. That experience is what led me to where I am now, which is propped up on six pillows on a Friday night to avoid coughing myself into an early labor.

Thursday I felt pretty good and hoped to complete some errands to help me return to work with as little stress as possible. I went out with only a headache and a raspy voice. Iwent to the chiropractor who miraculously cured my headache. Unfortunately I traded one headache for another as I had to return to my car in the parking lot with the front right tire basically flat. I put air in my tire for the fifth time in the last month.

Next I went to Chick Fil A for comfort food, but ended up getting a salad because of the kid.

From there I drove directly to a Jeep Chrysler dealership where they showed me a Toyota Corolla and tried to Jedi Mind trick me into believing as long as I can finance, I can afford it, when my aim is to pay cash.

Next I saw a new counselor because mine is on a mysterious medical leave. She strongly advised me to drop a class and suggested I work part time. Don’t have to tell me twice.

I think I’ve called my mom approximately 12 times in the last 6 days. Times like this make me realize she is truly the best friend I’ll ever have. No one else will ever care as much about me as themselves.

Tonight I called in regards to coughing so hard I was starting to feel like I would throw up. She advised me to go get Delsym. Once again, I pull my raggedy ass together to go the commissary. I didn’t even draw in eyebrows this time, but put on jeans. I made it home to attempt to study but my 2008 Acer laptop wasn’t working. When I finally rebooted it I found myself coughing and texting Allison my judgements of my teenaged neighbors for playing 2009’s greatest rap hits at their party next door.

I decided to give up on studying and get ready for bed but found a dozen little chores to do. I realized I hadn’t eaten, but coughing was making my stomach upset. As I peed for the 20th time this evening, I coughed and sprung a nosebleed for the fourth time this week.

From my pillow mountain, I texted Spencer who I knew was asleep “I need you,” because I do. With so much on me mentally, physically, and practically, I didn’t see how I could continue. I am always tough and rational, but I need my husband right now. I need him to do laundry, get me medicine, buy me dinner, fill the humidifier, force me to drink water, bring me a charger, buy me a car, and make me feel like I’m going through this for the team.

But alas, all I have is myself. This being pregnant during deployment is much harder than I could have imagined. Something has to give.

A few months back I wrote about my dilemma of going to school now or waiting three years to use my husband’s GI Bill benefits to pay for it. I had to come to the conclusion that spending the next three years asking people for permission to ask them questions despite the fact they called in to Customer Service for help may in fact lead to a certain kind of death.

I had to rush and pick a school to complete Statistics as a prerequisite. I picked my Alma Mater. From the website, it looked like I would be paying around $250 per credit hour by two ways. First of all, military personnel and dependents could get In-State tuition, and secondly the tuition for online only programs was around that same price. So I was good to go! Except I wasn’t. My tuition bill was $1421.

What I had failed to realize in my haste was that there was a deadline for claiming military status. It was in May but it was June when I realized I needed to take this class! Then, the online only course rate only applies if an online major is declared! Word of advice– just put down your mom’s in-state address.

I was anxious about taking the class because I’m terrible at math and had poor study skills when I was in college. But I’m grown now so I thought I’d do better since I’m responsible. When I was in college my Asian boyfriend did my College Algebra homework online and I still barely made a C. Nevertheless, I was cautious but optimistic.

The first assignment was to post “A little about yourself” on the forum and comment on two other students’ posts. Being old, I wrote a paragraph about myself instead of a numbered list with only the requisite three facts, and commented on several others posts. I eagerly awaited for someone to respond to my comments or my post, which no one did.

When perusing the forum, I realized I was the only graduate in the class. Do you remember being in undergrad and having that one lady in her mid-forties in your class that you kind of unfairly couldn’t stand? I recall having several classes with this woman who was frequently lost, but still tried to answer every question the teacher asked despite the fact she truly had no clue. In fact, she often ended her answers with “I don’t know.” She caught on slowly, but was self-sufficient enough to ask [stupid] questions to find her way. Well at one point I realized I might be her when I saw that I was the only person posting in the forum regularly regarding TECHNOLOGICAL ISSUES. In addition I was probably the only person with an email thread going with the professor about various inquiries. But I was also probably the only one paying my own real life, non-Sallie Mae coins to take the course, so judge me.

Taking an online class and being a full-fledged adult was much different from undergrad because I had to work all day and do homework at night and grow a fetus. It was also a five-week course. Each week had a lot of work, but Final week was intense: two tests, four assignments, four quizzes, and a project AND the final, which I had to take off work for and pay to use a proctoring service.

Anyway, I was pretty stressed before the final. I wasn’t sure how I would do because I had gotten stranded in struggle city with the last couple chapters. I felt like my fate on the test was decided because I knew I didn’t have the mental or physical capacity anymore to “pull an all-nighter.” But on the other hand, DO YOU KNOW WHAT I COULD BUY WITH $1400???

I was so glad to be done with the class and statistics as a whole. But was also not 100% sure I didn’t fail. The feeling of relief after the final was like being post-coital, but then also like when you’ve just nearly missed being in a horrible car accident.

You can imagine how shocked I was to find that I had made an 88%! I was just hoping for a C. But I was really floored the following week when I checked my grade and saw that I had earned an A!!! I cried.

I cried because I had found a lizard in the shower that morning and was emotionally drained, but also because after 15 years, I finally had proof I wasn’t an idiot. I couldn’t help thinking back to struggling in Pre Algebra in 7th grade and the beginning of believing I wasn’t actually gifted or intelligent. If I had never stopped believing in myself, I would be a psychologist right now. I considered myself “bad at math” from then on, but looking back it had more to do with external factors than my actual intelligence. I could get deep and talk about how I was black and poor, and all my classmates were white with two parents and lived in nice neighborhoods together and studied/copied each other’s homework, but I am happy to simply say that I am finally ready to do my best.

I am 18 weeks pregnant and my husband is deployed. He knew I was pregnant before he left because we planned it.

Why would one plan to carry a child without her partner? Because the Army. The Army has commandeered almost all of my significant life choices and it seemed important that we not let it dictate our life plan. Where we live and what jobs we have are temporary, but bringing a child into the world is hopefully a permanent decision. We wanted to make that choice on our own terms. Being 29 this year and reaching three years of marriage, it was the right time for us. Personally, I’ve been ready since I was about 18 but having a child in high school is frowned upon. Spencer on the other hand stated he needed a total of three vacations before he could feel he had done enough. The third would have been this summer, but all the dates conflicted with the deployment… Does Afghanistan count?

The thing about deployment is we basically know what to expect: things are going to be less good for x months (of course, still anything can happen). That sounds bleak, but better the bleak you know than the bleak that springs up when you have something nice and elaborate planned! Better he missed the pregnancy than us wait and he miss the pregnancy, birth, or newborn stage for some other reason. Those things can still happen, but the deployment should at least allow us a guarantee he will be home for the first part of our son’s life. Despite those “facts,” we ultimately prayed that whatever was best would happen and proceeded.

I know this is frustrating to many people, but we started trying in April, and we conceived in May. I was obsessed in April. I realized I could not continue on like that. It made me crazy. The tests, the sex, the hyperawareness was too much and I knew I would be a wreck if I repeated that pattern. The following month I just wanted to continue our normal routines, but did take an ovulation test the day my Glow app suggested I should ovulate and made a point to follow up…

At the end of the month, Spencer brought up how overwhelming it might be to come home from deployment and have a newborn. I thought that was reasonable; reacclimating after a deployment can be difficult. I agreed that it would be best to wait. LOL.

I hadn’t thought I was pregnant because I didn’t have any symptoms, I mean, I had a frozen daiquiri in the freezer. But Spencer was leaving town on June 1st so I figured I should go ahead and take a test so we could find out together as opposed to waiting four days until I joined him in Oklahoma. It caught me completely by surprise for the test to come up positive. Spencer came into the bathroom to see why I was laughing so hard. I replied by showing him the pregnancy test…which he couldn’t comprehend, because I’m cheap and had the test strips instead of the plastic test stick that has the legend on it to tell you want the lines mean. We took another test later that afternoon. Then I took one Friday and when we got back about 10 days later. It actually takes a while to really be convinced.

That was Memorial Day and Spencer left June 25. It was hard to celebrate a pregnancy when Dad was rearing to join the boys in the sandbox. And it’s hard to celebrate now with the time difference and our separate stressors. I didn’t think much about being pregnant without my partner because thousands of other black women do it every year. I now understand that just because people go through something does not mean it’s easy and it has not been. And that is the same truth about deployment. I wish I had someone to get me food, hug me and rub my feet, watch me grow, and talk about the future. Twenty minutes of FaceTime once or twice a day cannot suffice.

Despite the exasperation or aloneness I feel at times, so far I can’t say this was not the right choice. Overall it would be better if Spencer were here, but at times, it seems like he is better off not being around, because with these hormones and his personality, I’m going to be mad at him regardless of where he is. This has not been as exciting of a time as I expected for several reasons, and only as I write this I make the connection that neither was my engagement because Spencer and I were apart for that as well and I had to do everything on my own. But the difference here is that my son is with me. At this point, I have to add “so I’m told,” because I’ve got this bump and these C cups but nothing else to show. Hopefully in the next few weeks I will start to feel him and that will comfort me. Although I’m not excited, the pregnancy is hardly the end goal; the baby is, and Spencer will be here for that. Hopefully.

I don’t want my husband to deploy. I want my husband to deploy. My husband is about to deploy. His battalion has been gone for a while now and he will be joining them soon.
Am I sad? Not on the outside- or the inside really. In my brain, it’s a sad situation; in my mind, there is no use in crying about it.
I have been trying to articulate my feelings on this for weeks because they are complex. Feelings about being away from my spouse are the simplest. Feelings of not wanting him to stay are hardest to express.
When my husband leaves, it will just be me, endlessly taking calls, not cleaning up after myself, doing hobbies. I am hundreds of miles from friends and family with no vacation days left. I’ve tried to make new friends, but no one is ever close enough. It will be lonely.
On the other hand, I have it better than the other ladies. I don’t have kids. I’m older and have actually lived on my own in a city away from home. I am highly capable of reaching out to others. I’m equipped for this. For that reason, it is hard for me to feel sorry for myself when dozens of other women are enduring this same thing with a fifth of the survival skills. I’ll be alright. I’ll write more, eat better, and save money. I have no doubt I will find something to do with myself.

My plan is to find things to work on. Immediately, I should be taking a four-week statistics class. Oh, I decided to move forward with a masters degree, so I’ll have that to focus on as well. I may try Paleo again, which I tried when he went to Basic Training and lost 15 pounds! There is also that novel I started writing last year that I would be proud to complete. I have enough things to do that I see this separation as an opportunity rather than a pause.

That isn’t why I don’t want my husband to stay though. The rest of the Spencer’s battalion left a couple months ago. He didn’t leave because he was on medical profile after having vision correction surgery. There was a moment when his leadership told him they wanted him to stay behind as the point person during the deployment. I felt frustrated by this. Not just because the plan kept changing. I was frustrated because I didn’t want him to miss out on the opportunity. I didn’t want him to be the old dude in the battalion that still hasn’t deployed. I didn’t want him to be that one guy in a group that doesn’t get the joke because “you had to be there.” I didn’t want to spend the next nine months knowing my husband was wishing he were somewhere else, but that’s not what made my eyes sting.
While I was still unhappy with my career in St. Louis, there was at least the illusion of opportunity and the reality of money. You already know what the reality of my career prospects is here, so the consolation is the success of my husband’s career. If he doesn’t deploy, then he’s “behind.” I’m behind. This whole time I have watched opportunities be taken away from him and my career stall and roll backward. What made me tear up was that overwhelming feeling that if he has to miss out on something else, my professional sacrifice will be for absolutely nothing. It will be for his spun wheels, broken plans, late nights, and deep-seeded frustration, compliments of the Army.

So of course I want him to stay, but it is important that he goes. And he is going. True soldiers join the military to go through hardship. And I understand the danger and reconciled it when I decided to become a military spouse, that’s why fear is not a part of this discussion. We didn’t come to the land of chain restaurants for the chain restaurants. We are here because the one thing my husband knows more than anything is that he wants to be a soldier.

I have been sleeping naked since the election to be ready for the Rapture. Just kidding, that’s not why. But many may be surprised to observe the President make it to his 100th day in office on April 29, 2017 without impeachment, war, or the government completely shutting down. I personally didn’t know what to expect with Donald Trump in office, but seeing as how the first Hunger Games has not been announced, besides the Fyre Festival, I would say my expectations have been exceeded.

It was hard to have a positive outlook given the nationally shared sadface at the outcome of the election. This surprises me since, you know, Trump won, but two percent (of the popular vote) is a lot of people and they are passionate. For the record, I am independent. I wasn’t holding a candle in either direction, for Clinton or Trump, but when I awoke at 5 am and saw Trump had won, a pall immediately came over me. I really didn’t think the country would elect an individual as infamous as he, especially while Billy Bush sits home texting his friends in show business trying to get a job, and they’re all like “Who dis?”/”I don’t know her.” Beyond that point, it was a shock to me that all the projections, including Saturday Night Live sketches, were wrong. But as I do, I moved on and found inspiration by the fact it was now proven that one could literally do anything they want regardless of qualification.

It was hard to remain positive because everyone was so negative. Every podcast I listened to seemed to assume I voted for Hillary Clinton and was considering walking into oncoming traffic because she did not win. My friends felt that people who did not vote for Clinton weren’t living their lives right, and were possibly subhuman, because as a minority and a female, how could I not be enraged at the implication that society may be shifted away from my interests??? Well, being that same black female, I’m used to it. At every turn, America was doing what Americans do best- collective complaining. Have you ever noticed that when there is nothing to talk about, people resort to complaining? In person, through media, on social media it seemed that everyone was talking about politics and assuming I voted for Clinton and complaining to me, which brought me down. I wanted to stay abreast of the topics as well as be a responsible adult but the bias was hard for me watch, and politics is boring. I had to step back.

Trump has made several moves since January 20, but apparently not more than other presidents in their first 100 days, just more notable. The incessant app notifications popping up on my phone every 90 minutes had me shook, but I soon understood my sources were “left wing” and painting a specific picture, in my opinion. There was a moment however, when Trump started firing people that got me concerned. It took me back to my high school boyfriend trading me off his Ultimate Frisbee team because I wouldn’t pass the Frisbee to him. In my defense, I couldn’t pass that far. We see how that relationship turned out. Trump changing out his staff gave me the impression of someone who can’t be told ‘no’ and does not work well with others. But maybe when you pick your staff based on who makes you feel the fuzziest, adjustments are inevitable. I honestly had expected more personal volatility from the President; maybe some outbursts and name calling, but Mr. Spicer seems to be taking on that role for him.

While it is hard for me to take interest in NAFTA, I am inclined to take interest in changes to the Affordable Care Act. Working for a health insurance company, makes this transition an especially interesting time. I talk to consumers that assume I voted for Clinton and blame Trump for the HealthCare Marketplace being a wreck, and members think I should have voted for Trump wishing away the Affordable Care Act away, not knowing that preventive care coverage, not excluding pre-existing illnesses, and pediatric vision and dental are a part of it. Last week I had a self-righteous, white male keep me on the line for 50 minutes preaching about how there should be no healthcare for anyone who cannot afford it, and asserting that everyone should be able to overcome their life circumstances even though the most adversity he has faced has likely been his expensive insurance premium. I talk to these citizens who have no compassion and I get it. And I talk to entitled citizens who are receiving assistance and still complain about having to pay copays and deductible and their bills on time, and I get how society fosters this attitude as well. And I talk to citizens who are very sick and have never had health insurance before and they are grateful and responsible. The situation is depressing and conflicting. I understand where everyone is coming from and wonder if there is a solution that is both fair and right.

People thought their candidate was the way, the truth, and the life, but if I’m not mistaken, that’s Jesus (John 14:6). While He has not come back to save us from politics in general, scripture does say “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God,” – Matthew 13:1. Since I, like Mr. Trump, am not a professional politician or economist, I won’t assert that things would be better or worse with one candidate over the other. I am willing to accept it can go both ways. That does not mean I don’t think anything bad can happen, that means I ultimately believe God is in control of what happens to me so for that reason I will give this guy a chance and pray we have a chance as a nation.

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I had a marriage epiphany a couple weeks ago. As I was presenting to my husband my quarterly list of grievances about him, and argued about what qualifies as “effort,” it occurred to me that I could put more “effort” in myself. Last month I heard myself refer to a previous version of myself as “when I was a full time wife” in conversation. Even though my husband never complains, I figured I could try to be the girl I know he would like. As I do, I made a list of goals for the week:

Keep the house clean.

Consume and discuss politics.

Have meals ready when Spencer is home from work.

Spend quality time…on the couch.

Look decent when Spencer comes home.

Text throughout the day.

I started the week with ambition and initiative, but I will go on and tell you I failed at all 7 objectives even though there were only 6. Oh, I can find a way to fail. There was a moment that week that made me consider my actual value as a wife.

Keeping the house clean.

I like a clean house and I work from home. That means I am impacted by the cleanliness and have more time to clean. My husband is actually very neat and methodical so I know he likes the house clean and everything in its place. Despite those facts, the house did not get cleaned until I was off Friday and that was just the kitchen. I had cleaned throughout the week, but I guess it made new messes at the same speed.

Listening to Politics

I downloaded NPR Politics and NPR’s UpFirst in an effort to stay abreast of current events. As a clueless, married woman, I usually depend on my husband to brief me on politics and global events. I didn’t grow up around people discussing or caring about politics. I have certainly tried to seek knowledge, but find it to be a literal effort to retain any information. Not to mention that I don’t really watch television or read news. Spencer on the other hand, is very interested and has opinions. I know it would be stimulating for him to be able to discuss news with me and have an intelligent conversation. Despite having identified what and how, I didn’t even listen to the podcast.

Have meals ready

The goal is to have dinner ready by 7:30 and make sure he has a meal for lunch. Things I used to do, even after I started working. Not only did I fail to cook this week, Spencer actually ended up cooking one day. He grilled bratwursts and hotdogs, with no bread, because I forgot to unthaw the ground beef. Then we had leftovers for the next few days. It’s fine for Spencer to cook, but not fine for me to be lazy.

Hang out in the evenings

Quality time with my husband is watching TV with my husband. I would prefer he do what I’m doing sometimes since I don’t want to watch television all the time, but since this was about me meeting him where he was, I wanted to do what I know he would like. Keeping with the theme, there wasn’t a single evening that I sat down after dinner to do more than watch an episode of Veep. Instead I baked or cleaned.

Look decent

Many people think I am attractive, but I just don’t know what you would think if you saw me at 1 pm on a weekday. If I have managed to put on a complete outfit, meaning not a robe or pajamas, then my hair is likely in the same ponytail I wore to the gym with a headband barely hanging on there. I know my husband would at least like me to look groomed, forget the makeup, but I didn’t even manage that. My edges were kinky and my eyebrows were faint, knees ashy…and dinner wasn’t ready.

Text throughout the day

We don’t text regularly because Spencer comes home for lunch, but I am usually working the whole time or he’s napping so we don’t really get to check in. I thought texting throughout the day would be a good way to connect and let Spencer know I was thinking about him. Apparently I wasn’t thinking about him because I didn’t manage a single text that wasn’t logistics related.

Don’t break my husband’s things

A goal not to destroy the other person’s property should be a given for most partners, which is why it was not listed. Even though I didn’t list it, the moment I broke my husband’s iPad case was the lowest point of my week. I am clumsy and I am careless and short-sighted. I did not foresee the iPad falling backward off the ledge and into the empty bathtub, but that’s what happened. I did my best to duct tape the hinge of the case, but it was no use. I sat it on the coffee table and waited for my demise

Spencer scratching up my dandruff… Sexy.

I really did fail at being a better wife. I tried and I failed. I was discouraged that I couldn’t even achieve what used to be my standard performance. I used to take pride in the package I provided as I anticipated my husband’s needs and stayed on top of my self-given responsibilities. I used to do things like make sure his water bottle was sanitized every week. Now I feel like I am going through the motions and sometimes not even that. I complain a lot about not being able to do both as a full time employee, but the reality is that I am going to be an employee for the foreseeable future. I can’t allow it to take away from my relationship. As I lamented to a friend about my failure, she pointed out took on a lot and should just focus on one thing at a time. I was kind of setting myself up to fail. But most importantly Spencer didn’t seem to notice one way or another. Even though he stayed on top of his chores, he never complained about the clothes crammed under my side of the bed or eating dinner at 9 pm. He didn’t even get mad about the iPad case. He only made a joke about getting a better model that isn’t clumsy. And that, my friends, is unconditional love.